


The Intricacies of Foreplay

by HARDCOREPROCESS, thescyfychannel



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Alien/Human Relationships, Altered Mental States, Awkward Conversations, Cognitive Dissonance, Digital Art, F/M, Feral Behavior, Foreplay, Hypnotism, Illustrations, M/M, Mental Disintegration, Mind Control, Mind Games, Mind Manipulation, NSFW Art, Oral Fixation, Oral Sex, Overstimulation, Pheromones, Praise Kink (minor), Rough Sex, Self-cest, Socks, Threesome - M/M/M, Trolls (Homestuck), Voyeurism, Xenophilia, time clones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-09-25 09:10:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20374282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HARDCOREPROCESS/pseuds/HARDCOREPROCESS, https://archiveofourown.org/users/thescyfychannel/pseuds/thescyfychannel
Summary: The long and complicated tale of how Dirk Strider ended up on Aranea Serket's concupiscent platform and list of favorite human booty calls.





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [petasos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/petasos/gifts).

"So let me get this straight. You..._want_ me to psychologically manipulate you into submission? To turn you into an incoherent, drooling himbo, who wants nothing more than to fuck and be fucked until you're begging for it?"

"Yep."

"I assume you have already guessed that this is very within the realm of my interests, but that leaves the question: _Why?_"

"Because my psychological profile is fucked. All signs point to an upcoming disaster. The prognosis? I'm probably going to turn evil, and I need to be pre-emptively stopped, before stopping me and saving the world because the deadliest goddamn mission you've never seen succeed." Dirk pauses for breath, and seems to note the skepticism in your eyes. "Or something like that."

"This is a human kink thing, isn't it."

"Eeeeeyup."

Your name is Aranea Serket, and this is quite possibly the weirdest single interaction with a human that you've ever had.

You've also got a feeling that it's, even if you choose to not agree to do what he's asking you to, not going to be the last.

However, that doesn't mean that _you_ can't get something equally good (and possibly weird) out of this situation, too. Dirk hasn't taken his eyes off of you, and you meet them, a smile unlike your usual one—a little more poison-sweet than reassuring, a little more of who you prefer to be than who you'd like people to think you are—spreads across your face. When your eyes light up with a blue glow, he doesn't look surprised. When they _continue_ to glow, without even the slightest flicker of a touch on his mind, though—_then_ you get to watch his eyes go wide.

"Tell me," you say, at the edge of your proverbial seat, "absolutely everything."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TBC...tomorrow


	2. Chapter 2

Really, the only solution is telling her everything.

Actually. Solution might be the wrong word. It's the best course of action out of the multiple potential routes you've calculated. Aranea Serket, based on all the knowledge you have of her, has a thing for exposition. It could be argued that she in fact gets off on it, and that anyone interested in engaging with her on a wholly physical level had better be ready to dish some godtier level exposition. It's basically foreplay for her, an intricate dance of trying to get in her pants.

Or get her in your pants. You're flexible.

Literally flexible. You'll make a point to mention this, somewhere along the line. Bonus points.

Anyway.

* * *

When you had first walked into the house you sometimes shared with Dave, the scent of sex hung so heavy in the air that you almost crashed into a particularly strong curl of it. Tavros had Dave sprawled out on the ground, his ass high in the air as his matesprit fucked deeper into him, a look in the usually gentle troll's eyes that you'd never seen before. Dave, meanwhile, was wearing an expression you weren't entirely surprised by—absolutely delighted, and a solid three-fourths of the way to being completely fucked stupid, even with one of Tavros' hands planted on the side of his to pin him down—given the state Tavros was in.

You'd looked at them. They had both thoroughly ignored you.

Now that you'd gotten up to speed, it was time to jump to the present tense and break the ice. "Sup?"

The reactions you get are as unexpected as they are intriguing. Tavros outright snarls, a challenging noise that has you revoking every question you had about Dave's sanity (at least, every question re: Banging Trolls) in favor of a very ill-advised half-boner.

You can admit it like a man. You're a little turned on by this whole viewing scenario.

"D, Dirk, hey—" is about all Dave gets out before Tavros snaps his hips right the fuck forward in a way that makes Dave keen. Fucking nice. "Fffffuck, fuck, sorry, thought we'd—be done—by now—"

"Done with what, exactly? It's not like the sex is anything new. Unless you're trying out something new?" You'll take notes. You'll find a troll of your own, maybe one who's interested in some...science experiments. You're sure there are a couple out there. Definitely.

Dave, meanwhile, is digging his nails into the ground and panting like he's been put in heat. Hm. Actually. If that's the case, you'll need to get a little bit more involved.

"Dave. Hey." You get down on one knee and Tavros, for a long moment, doesn't seem likely to let you touch Dave. Even if you're absolutely desperate to know, you don't want to risk setting him off, but you're damn lucky—you'll put it down to the similarities between your scent and Dave's—and he settles down enough to let you lift Dave's head off the ground. "Answers, Dave. C'mon. This is very, _very_ need to know."

"Sup," says Dave, from just behind you. Okay, so this is a much more elegant solution to your current conundrum, but Dave Current is looking pretty decent right now, and you don't feel like letting him go. "So, I'm pretty useless right now, but I'll be coherent again in...oh, six hours, or so? I'm from twelve hours ahead, by the by. I think I took a nap or something, I didn't keep close count."

"You, of all people, didn't keep close count of time?"

He grins out at you from behind the shades, tilting his head towards himself and Tavros. "Distracted, remember? Anyway. I'll be conscious and coherent in half a day, or more, depending."

"I'm not waiting half a day to find out what happened," you start and Dave Twelve Hours (you'll abbreviate it to D12) is _still grinning_. And still moaning. It's a little distracting. Fuck.

"No, I didn't think you would. In fact, that's part of the reason I'm here, consider it a goodwill mission on behalf of suffering Daves everywhere." D12 eases you out of the way to tilt Present Dave's head up, and you've apparently underestimated exactly how much of the Strider Horny Quotient Dave's actually inherited, because you hadn't fully realized exactly _what_ all the extra time clones he has popping up all the time are for. Case in point: D12 is prying Present Dave's jaw open (it doesn't take much effort, his mouth's practically hanging open, the oral fixation is strong in this one) the better to fit his cock down Present Dave's throat. "There you go, isn't that so much better? You're doing so good for Tavros, aren't you?"

Present Dave chokes out a little whimper, very wide-eyed and overwhelmed, and you _still_ don't have any answers beyond "Dave likes using time clones to abuse his obvious praise kink and get him horny", which could very well lead to more questions, despite the—okay, you're getting ahead of yourself. "So. Explanations? Or—"

"Hey Dirk," says yet _another_ Dave, and you're dummy close to calling it a day and waiting a solid 24 hours for the answer. "First answer is that yes, that's Dave from about twelve hours from now, I'm Dave from...fifteen hours from now, and the new thing that they're trying out? Fake pheromones. Designed to make a troll absolutely lose their shit and-slash-or get a little more rumpus-y in the rumpus room. A hotter time in the old town. A—"

"Right," you say, cutting off D15 before shit gets any more squirrelly than it already is. "Good to know."

It is, in fact, good to know, and you take a step back to make the mental calculations necessary, drifting through the apartment like a particularly unfocused ghost as the debaucherous scene currently playing out in your living room rapidly degenerates, courtesy of the the degenerates involved. 

You barely notice the cock ring someone got on Present Dave, or the way he's straining, desperate to come, begging any time he's let up for air. You rapidly lose track of the sheer number of time clones getting in, as it were, on the ground floor. And you can hardly be blamed for not being able to keep up with what they're saying to Dave at any given moment—even _Tavros_ is getting in on it, presumably as the fake pheromones wear off enough to give him a slice of the sanity pie back—given how quickly they bounce between sweet songs of degradation that have Dave opening up easy and biting notes of praise that cut into his insecurities deep.

In fact, the only amount of attention you're truly paying is the appreciation that comes at the work of a master.

In fact, it's given you a _very_ damn good idea, one that you'll have to implement...oh, immediately.

Just as soon as you can find a willing troll of your own.

One of the Daves—you have absolutely no idea which one this is, but you're hardly going to let _him_ know that—stops you before you leave the room. "Here," he says, and offers you a test tube of what you're assuming is the secret key to unlocking such salacious shenanigans. "You'll probably end up asking one of us anyway, or knowing you, going straight to the source. It'll be easier for everyone involved this way."

You give him a respectful (appreciative) nod, and don't comment on his dress (assless skinny jeans and a croptop) or lack thereof. "Anything else I ought to know about?"

"Instructions are on the test tube, be careful about who you use it with, how much, and, uh." He glances back at Present Dave, then gives you a very apologetic look. "For how long. Repeated usage, all of that intimidating warning bullshit."

"Hoofbeastshit," you reply, and Dave Something actually groans. It's a signal to retreat back to your room, and retreat you do, visions of getting thoroughly dicked down by a troll in your head following quickly after you.

No. No, actually? Now that you're really thinking about it? You want more than that.

You want to be _controlled_.

And you know exactly the troll that you'll need to go to.


	3. Chapter 3

With as juicy a story as that...what can you do but indulge? You'd hate to give more credence to that trite old cliché, about Striders being easy, but, well. They _do_ make it easy, in their own, individual little ways. Dirk, though he prides himself on so many things, is no different in this than Dave, than the Beta and Alpha versions of themselves that just can't seem to catch a break.

You could break him in six words. It would be incredibly easy. He'd barely even realized that you'd begun fucking him before his story was completely told, that the moment he invited you in—_after all, he'd said he wanted to find a troll of his own_—he'd completely lost. Or, as the case may be, won.

Not even you could be entirely sure of what Dirk Strider was after, although you were quite eager to strip down every piece of him that you could, until he'd _have_ to let you find out.

Six words. So easy.

"Now, would you like to see what I've done to each micro-split of you? I don't suppose you'll be able to understand what I've done in this state, but getting off to yourself is as ingrained in you as taking every inch of my bulge and breathing when I command. I think you'll manage just fine. You can already feel the first layer now."

_—wet, beautifully cold, ice in his spine, shoulders lax but tense, eyes unseeing but seeing one thousand times, it's her, it's her, it's her—_

"I think you've earned the right to go deeper, Dirk. I'll count to eight, and you'll breathe in time with me."

_—deep, deep, deep, he can see himself suspended in air by her, her hands, his legs in a different position than the one he can feel, but this one he can feel, he can feel it, he is there—_

**"Good boy."**


End file.
